Releasing Godot
by Holly Unending
Summary: Written after seeing the Godot x Mia!ghost official art Capcom just released. Something like a happy ending. Sappy. Godot x Mia, Diego x Mia


**A/N: **Overly sappy. Overly tragic. Overuse of the word "coffee". _You have been warned._ This was just to get out all of the raw feelings from playing case 3-4 and knowing that there would be no happy end (due to online spoilers). Major suckage. CAPCOM owns all PW stuff.

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He should have been working on one of the plethora of cases forming a tower of doom in his inbox. He should have been with a key witness, coaxing out stubborn details. Maybe he even should have been apologizing to his boss for dropping that trivial DUI case in favor of another battle with Trite. Man, was that guy going to be PO'd.

"Ha…!"

Instead he threw back his head and chugged down another mug of coffee. Ah, coffee…! It was hell for his body but who cared? Not Godot. He didn't care about anything anymore, that was one of his rules. There had been nothing left on this goddamn planet worth caring about since she was beaten out of existence three years ago while he lay unseeing and silent in a hospital bed.

_Pathetic. Worse than a store-bought blend with a cup of cream and fifteen tablespoons of sugar._

He stared blankly ahead at the one picture he'd propped up on his desk. "Kitten, why aren't you here?"

_And there she was._

"What- what did I do for a vision like this?" he asked himself quietly, as though if he spoke too loudly his voice would chase her away. "One too many cups? If that's it, I'll hook myself up to a coffee IV!" He didn't care if it made him crazy, as long as he could see her again. Mia. _Mia._ He just stared at her, as if he couldn't see the window of his office glowing through her, as if the vision were absolutely real.

"It's me, Diego. Not a vision…just a ghost. _It's me._" Mia said urgently. She put her arms around him; he leaned into her-

But she wasn't there. "Sorry," she murmured. "I'm not strong enough yet. I guess it's been too long since training. Ice-cold waterfalls aren't easy to find in the spirit world, you know." She wanted to say so much more than that.

He needed to feel her skin against his, but more he needed to just see her face and so the only blood-stained tears he wept were filled with joy. "God, I missed you!"

"I can't stay…Diego, you have to let go of me. You have to move on, to find someone you love, to _do_ what you love-"

"I only love you," he said roughly. "You and coffee. Prosecution, defense: a world without you looks the same from both sides of the courtroom."

She closed her eyes. Comforted and despairing. "Thank you, I'm…I'm so happy. But I want _you_ to be happy, even without me."

"That's like asking for coffee without a cup, Kitten. What do you want me to drink from?"

"_Life._"

"Not quite keeping up with the metaphors today," he smirked, brushing his hands against her cheeks and imagining the softness of her face. Mia closed her eyes.

"I just want you to understand that I can't ever be alive again, no matter how much I want to go back. I- please! Tell me you understand!"

The smirk left him, because he understood all too well. "It's like this, isn't it? Have you ever broken your favorite coffee mug, Kitten? The one that's been with you, seventeen cups a trial, in and out through defense and prosecution? You hang onto it for a while, like maybe one day you'll wake up and all the pieces will have somehow pulled themselves together again, but it's useless. No matter how much you love the damned thing, you have to let it go. Because the only use it'll ever have is to be stared at and wished for…not held or drunk from. Not ever."

"That's one of the few times I've ever understood your stupid coffee metaphors," she whispered against his cheek. Tears escaped him at how real the sound of her voice was.

"Don't knock the coffee metaphors," he whispered back, and was surprised to feel drops on his cheeks, surprised that Mia was crying, surprised that her tears could be real. He wanted to catch every one since he couldn't kiss them away, wanted to catch them so that later, when he was alone, he would have proof that she had _existed_. Then he wanted to make sure she never cried again.

"Mia…" he whispered hoarsely. "I'm not letting you go! Not this time!"

She wrapped her arms around him like she was imagining she could hold him.

"The dead don't belong in the world of the living," she choked. "But _I will be back._ I promise you, Mr. Armando! This kitten…this kitten will fight with all her claws out to come back to you…!" Euphoria, despair. I saw you, I couldn't touch you. I was here, I leave.

I love you, I love you.

"Diego…"

He wasn't sure which faded first, the tears or his coffee or the ghost of the woman he loved- but in the end all of them were gone.

They would certainly part at the pearly gates, the caffeine god and his kitten. He, the vengeful, seductive prosecutor could not go to the same place as the pure-hearted, determined defender. It wouldn't be right. No sane angel would pollute heaven with the twisted human called "Godot", just as no sane human would pollute bitterness with sugar. No hell for the beautiful, the innocent, the sweet. No heaven for Godot.

Only now he was "Diego" again.

His secretary knocked and came in suddenly. "Mr. Godot, another case for you."

"Ha…! My name is Diego! Diego Armando! Don't you ever forget it, Kitten."

"But- Mr- isn't Diego Armando…dead?"

He grabbed her coffee cup out of her hand and drained it, grimacing as he realized it was at least fifty percent sugar and cream. "Sorry to disappoint you, but Diego is very much alive- a ghost brought him back to life."

He wasn't willing to gamble with the chance that they would be together in death, but as long as he lived she had promised he wouldn't be alone. "Might as well live. For now," he murmured to himself. He licked the rim of his mug; it was empty. Maybe he should pull the first folder off of the tower in his inbox and start reading. Maybe he should walk over to the precinct and see what the detectives had for him. Maybe he should even go see that old man Grossberg, just to give him an outlet for all the fresh-lemon-scented stories he'd probably been bottling up over the years.

Or maybe he should just pour himself another cup of coffee and wait for his ghost to return.

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**A/N: **_Did I or did I not warn you about the sap?! _I told you so.


End file.
